Chronicler of Christmas
by PaperGirlInAPaperTown
Summary: When Tooth realises that this holiday season could be Jack's first spent with anyone in 300 years, it is decided: she needs to find him a Christmas present. But it can't just be any present. It needs to be perfect. If only perfection were so easy to wrap—and easier to find.


**Author's Note:**

Rating: General

Relationships and Pairings: F/M; Jack Frost/Tooth

Characters: Jack Frost, Tooth, Baby Tooth,

Other Tags: Christmas, Short Story, Rainbow Snowcone, Gift Exchange, Romantic Friendship, Safe for Work

Words: Approx. 7000

**Warnings:** No warnings apply.

* * *

**Chronicler of Christmas**

"I tell you, this time of year makes me want to tear out my feathers. Don't get me wrong, it is lovely, with the lights and the music and the Yule log crackling on an open fire…"

Jack hummed an agreement as Tooth paused to delegate new orders to the nearest squadron of fairies. They zoomed away through a wide crevice, out into a warm, tropic breeze. Practically a part of the furniture, Jack perched upon a fork in the twisting, golden structure that encased the jewel-toned Nest of Tooth Palace. His staff stood erect from the ground, his hands settled atop its crook and his chin upon them in turn. A warm smile played at his lips, set aglow by the light of an apricot sunset. All around them, the Tooth Palace of Punjam HyLoo buzzed with the frantic, iridescent flickers of fairies at work. At the centre of the mayhem, darting to-and-fro, was Tooth, who so wanted to give Jack her full, undivided attention. However, social calls required planning. And when Jack dropped in unannounced—as he so often was wont to do—it was easier to converse in stolen moments.

"…But the sugar cookies!" Tooth continued. "The gingerbread, the hot chocolate. Don't even get me started on the candy canes! Oh, I could just_—" _

"Why've you got your floss in a twist over candy canes?" Jack asked, amused.

Tooth held up a tiny pearl of an object and pointed to it. "Cavities," she stated. She gave the child's tooth to one of her fairies, who zipped away to stow it in its correct box. "Not that that child had any whatsoever," she added in parentheses, "he did an impeccable job flossing. I would have given him an extra coin just for that."

"Uh-huh."

"But I'm digressing. What I meant to say is: one of these days, I'm going to sit North down with a six-point plan to promote sugar-free alternatives to his holiday sweets. That way I might have a shot of winning this up-hill battle against enamel corrosion."

"Is that so?" There was a twinkle of a jest in Jack's eyes. "Sounds super festive."

"I know you're making fun of me but I think it could be, if only North wasn't so stubborn… You know, if I had one of my rapiers with me I'm sure that would finally appeal to his sensibilities." Tooth gave a small nod of satisfaction to herself. "Anyway, you must be excited for the holidays, right? Everyone's having fun, the children would be excited for all the presents under their trees, and with the added bonus of winter always somewhere in the world, you must be having a ball."

The smile on Jack's face froze and faltered. He dropped his gaze to his hands. "Uh, yeah. I guess you could say that."

Tooth halted mid-air and regarded him with a slight frown. "Well, aren't you?"

"I am, I guess." His brow knitted in a troubled crease. "I mean, the kids are all so happy. It's cheery, it's bright. There's snow for days."

"But?"

"But…I dunno. Christmas can be tricky, you know?"

Jack's face, so fixed in serious contemplation, set off a twinge of malaise in Tooth's chest. Softening her voice, she asked, "Why is that?"

"Oh, it's just—" Jack stopped mid-shrug and looked up at her suddenly. He pasted on an easy-going smile. "It's fine. I don't know what I'm talking about. Something silly." Then, Jack hopped down from his perch with nimble grace amid a flurry of delicate snowflakes. With a light skip and a jump, he was already in the air. "And speaking of silliness, I think there are a few snowball battles calling my name. Stay sweet, Tooth, I'll catch you around."

He was gone with the Wind before Tooth had the chance to say goodbye.

"That was a little odd," a confused Baby Tooth chirped by her ear.

"More than a little," Tooth agreed. "Has he mentioned anything to you? Anything that might be bothering him?"

Baby Tooth shook her head. Tooth felt her thoughtful frown tighten.

In the relatively short time Tooth had taken to befriend the newest Guardian, she had sensed a wall just beyond his carefree laughter and dazzling smile. There was a hurt Jack hid away and kept to himself. Sometimes she saw it through cracks but it was only a second before he paved them over with a cement-grade layer of denial. Though Jack appeared a boy on the cusp of adulthood, his visible age didn't even scratch the surface of all he had seen and done. Tooth understood; she was in rather the same boat. But unlike him, she had had guidance from the beginning. Jack had believed he was alone in the world…and that was more than enough to make her shudder in sympathy. Even so. Angst from a troubled past wasn't enough to explain Jack's sudden glum mood.

…Or was it?

"Oh, Baby Tooth! I'm such an idiot," Tooth exclaimed. Of course he doesn't like Christmas; he's spent every one of them for the past three hundred years alone!"

Baby Tooth's little brow shot up in surprise as she settled in the cup of Tooth's hands. "But shouldn't he be excited about Christmas this year then?" she chittered. "He won't be alone. He'll have his believers. He'll have the Guardians, too!"

"Maybe. The thing is, you can't shake that kind of loneliness so easily. I'm sure he knows we're here but he would feel miserable all the same. Deep down his heart is telling him that this year will be the same. Just as solitary, just as bleak all the others. And we—the Guardians, I mean—barely acknowledged him before. For all we know, he was looking in from the outside while we were all sitting around the fire at North's."

The flash mental image of Jack peering through a window, his hand on the glass, while the objects of his eye remained utterly oblivious tore at Tooth's heart. Though she had always known of a mysterious, errant spirit who flew like the arctic wind, she had never thought of reaching out to him. Never even thought to think.

"Well, some of that may be true, but I don't think you need to add that much hyperbole to it," Baby Tooth muttered.

"I have to do something," Tooth said. "No one deserves to feel alone on Christmas."

"What are you thinking?" Baby Tooth chirped.

Tooth paused. Then she smiled. "I'm thinking we're going to need a little help."

— O —

Deep in the forests of Romania there grew a tree. A grand old tree with roots that stretched and tumbled over one and other in an elaborate tapestry. Above, the canopy floated in a blanket of green, star-studded by sunlight. The trunk twisted from the ground, threw its limbs to the sky with great abandon. Within that trunk there lived a cluster of spiders.

They were quite hospitable, really, these spiders. Always prepared to chat to a passer-by—not that many took the time to stop. Perhaps it was the amount of eyes that put off the wary travellers. Regardless, Tooth knew they would be willing to help with her plight.

"A cape?" the spiders nattered amongst themselves.

"—Are capes still fashionable?"

"—Was his sweater not warm enough?"

"—Too warm, perhaps?"

"No, no!" Tooth interrupted, hovering low so her iridescent wings would not entangle with the draping branches above. "It's perfect, as far as I know. This is something extra. A gift. I thought perhaps he might like an accessory of sorts. Something that can withstand the cold, you know?"

"Oh, yes, yes," said the spiders, "we know. Say no more."

Tooth edged away and watched as several—no; hundreds of spiders emerged from unseen crevices in the trunk of the tree. They banded together in trickles of black which melded and pooled on the forest floor. There, the spiders began to weave their creation. They created the warp and weft of a fabric with fine-spun silk threads, lighter than chiffon at first. As the spiders worked, the fabric grew a little denser, a little heavier. Its colour, or lack thereof, grew in intensity to a shade of the most dazzling white. Soon, with a pigment extracted from the wild hepaticas growing in the glade, the white of the fabric began to change. A subtle blue emerged. A glimmering blue like the clearest sky reflected in freshly fallen snow.

When the spiders were done, Tooth picked up the cloak. Its fabric was slick and solid, yet light, with a curious, smooth texture that ran like water through her fingers. "It's perfect," she said and paid the spiders' fee: something of her herself. Though it saddened her to do so, it was a fair exchange when each object they weaved carried a little something of them within it. In return, Tooth gave them one of her longest, most colourful tail feathers. Bidding them adieu and thanking them kindly, she returned to the Palace with the garment carefully wrapped in twine.

…Only then, in a sudden bout of buyer's remorse, she saw the gift she had commissioned for what it was.

"I can't give him this," Tooth lamented as she shook the shimmering cape out and examined it. "Jack doesn't care about clothes. He doesn't even wear shoes! What was I thinking?"

"Honestly, I don't know what you're thinking right _now_," Baby Tooth replied. "It's beautiful."

"But it's not _Jack_." Tooth pressed her forehead into her palm and groaned. She peered up. "Is it?"

Her little assistant could only shrug in bemusement.

"Wait." Tooth froze. A thrill of inspiration sent her wings into a blur, ready to propel her into motion. "I've got an idea."

— O —

Actually, Tooth had many ideas before the night was through. But what was supposed to have been a brief quest to solve the "present problem" turned into a game of trial and error that Tooth quickly tired of playing. Her night was spent brainstorming and pondering; creating and casting aside gifts, which left her in a tired heap by sunrise. She and her fairies thought of everything: a journal of parchment bound in leather; trinkets in a gem-encrusted keepsake box; handmade picture frames; a small potted fern; sweets from the finest confectioner in Switzerland; and even Tooth's own attempted baked goods. Yet, the following morning, all they had was a pile of failed projects.

The thing was, Tooth realised—always a little too late—that the gift she had procured simply wouldn't do.

Though Jack was intelligent, he was not much of writer. In fact, seldom had she even seen him take a pew and sit in silent contemplation without grave reason. He didn't have that kind of attention span. Why then would he want to document the world on paper when it was right there begging to be explored; to be experienced? The journal was out.

In the same way, a box of trinkets was intended for display and decoration. It was not a toy. Of course, Jack was hardly a child wandering aisles of crystal homewares; he did not break the first thing he touched. However, he liked things with a purpose, things with which he could interact. Ornamentalism confounded him. So, the trinkets had to go as well.

The picture frames could have been lovely. But to Tooth's critical eye, the result of her handiwork was tacky and unprofessional. Also, Jack owned neither a camera nor walls upon which to hang the frames.

The fern…was an odd choice, even she was willing to admit.

The sweets put Tooth's moral compass in a spin, for there were no sugar-free alternatives to the specific peppermints she knew Jack liked. Not to mention, recipients of purchased food could tell straight away that their gift was a cop-out.

And while Tooth was many things, a baker was not one of them.

As a rising sun peaked through the rocky mountain cracks that served as the palace windows and doorways, Tooth yawned with a defeated sigh and looked at the state she was in. Glitter dusted her blue-green feathers, craft glue had dried on her hands, dirt scuffed her knees and Baby Tooth took it upon herself to mention that there was also flour smeared across her cheek. Still she had no present to give Jack.

"That's it," Tooth huffed as she brushed herself down, "I give up."

"Really?" Baby Tooth challenged.

"Of course I don't!" she snapped.

The little assistant folded her arms with a deadpanned regard.

"Sorry, I didn't mean… Oh, I just don't know what to do." Tooth smoothed back her frazzled feathered crown. "I can't _not_ give Jack a gift. He's gone so long without one, imagine how he would feel—although, he would never say anything was wrong because he's too noble a person. But none of these things are right for him and if I don't figure out what is, then what kind of friend am I?"

"True. What kind of _friend_ are you?"

Tooth paused and drew back to narrow her eyes at what was implied by Baby Tooth's tone. "Hey, just because I'm hopping aboard the self-depreciation train doesn't mean you have to pile on. I might not be able to choose a gift but that doesn't make me a bad person…right? I mean, at least I'm trying."

"You're missing my point." Baby Tooth hovered over the rejected presents, considering them. "Don't you think it's odd that you've spent so long agonising over what should be a fairly simple choice? Friends don't always waste away whole nights trying to find the perfect gift for someone else. _Friends_ don't always throw their duties by the wayside just to please that one person. Think about it. What have you gotten Sandman? North, even?"

"I don't know, I'll figure it—" Tooth's nonchalant hand-wave froze mid-air. Her cheeks started to warm. "What are you saying?"

"I think you know exactly what I'm saying."

Tooth laughed. "Oh, no. That's not—no! We're just friends. That's it. This is just me, trying to welcome Jack onto the team. Making him feel like he's a part of something."

"Come on!" Baby Tooth cried through exasperated chitters. "Admit it. His teeth might be perfectly aligned and blindingly white but you know you like more about him than that."

"I do not!" Tooth folded her arms, but could not maintain the defensive scowl pinching her face. "Oh…that's not what I mean. Okay, perhaps there is more I like about him. Not just his teeth. He's—he's _Jack_."

"Yes?"

"He's funny, and kind…"

"Yes."

"And he somehow always knows the right thing to say."

"Yes."

"And sometimes, he'll do that thing where he smiles and flashes his incisors and scruffs his hair."

"Yes!"

"Oh, and the way his eyes light up around the children. It's so precious. And then he looks at you. And you feel like you could just fall right out of the sky—ohhh _no_!"

"YES!"

"No!" Tooth's cold realisation settled in the pit of her stomach. "I can't!"

Baby Tooth crashed from her state of euphoria looking almost pained. "Can't _what_?"

"I can't tell him that. I can't tell him any of that! It would be—it would be selfish, that's what. What if he doesn't feel the same? Then I've ruined everything for eternity! I would never be able to face him again, let alone be in the same room as him. And if I couldn't do that, I don't even want to know how it would affect the children."

Baby Tooth flew over, perched on the back of Tooth's hand, and gazed up at her. "But what if he does feel the same?"

Tooth was silent. All she could think about was that early morning on the lake. The light had had a soft glow reminiscent of a dream not quite recalled, though a kind of thrill, a waking sense of hope lingered. And the air had tasted cold and clear, crisp with the excitement of a first snow. She had raced to Jack. Embraced him with total abandon and relief. They had shared a smile. In the chill, his hands had felt…not warm as they settled round her waist, but electric. Charged with a spark that sent a thrill through her being. Right before they both remembered themselves and lurched apart.

"Okay," said Baby Tooth, interrupting Tooth's wistful musings, "forget about Jack for a second."

"Excuse me? You were the one who—"

"I was getting ahead of myself. Focus on the present. Maybe we're going about it the wrong way."

"What do you mean?" asked Tooth.

"Is there anyone who could give you an idea? Surely one of the Guardians would be able to help you pick something." As an aside to herself, Baby Tooth muttered, "Anything would be good at this point."

"But I don't want it to be just anything." Tooth emphasised her point with a harsh gesture to the pile, prompting Baby Tooth to vacate her perch. "When he sees it, I want him to think of us. Not just you, or me, but all the Guardians. All his family. I need…"

Tooth stopped and gasped softly. She looked at Baby Tooth.

"I need to see North."

— O —

Contrary to popular belief, Christmas was never celebrated at the North Pole on the day itself. The former Cossack and his staff—along with whichever Guardians happened to be in attendance—celebrated Christmas in the wee hours of the morning after, when the last island of the last continent drifted past the sun into the 26th of December. When each tree nested atop a plethora of mysterious boxes ready to be found by eager children on Christmas day, that was when Nicholas St. North shed his Siberian coat and snatched up a plate of fruitcake all to himself.

Lights twinkled in the rafters above as lively music filtered through the reception hall. The Globe of Belief shone the brightest it would all year, until another Christmas came and went. The elves, as usual, were eager enough to play at being waitstaff, which led to Sandy commandeering the circulating tray of eggnog. As Bunny begrudgingly congratulated North on another successful holiday season, Tooth plucked up her courage. She seized her moment when she heard a lull in Jack's chaffing conversation with Phil the Yeti, pulling him behind the pillars of the reception hall.

Of course, it was only when Tooth had Jack's undivided attention that she realised she hadn't thought to rehearse a script. There was an odd beat before she uttered a sheepish, "Hi."

To his credit, Jack was prepared to humour her no matter his bemusement. "Hi there," he replied with a warm smile. "Everything alright?"

"Yes! Everything's fantastic." Tooth chuckled but withered on the inside. It had sounded less eager in her head. She cleared her throat. "I wanted to borrow you for a moment, just to—oh, my goodness, you weren't busy, were you? I'm so sorry, I didn't even think, I just whisked you away." Tooth grimaced. Yes; she was about ready for the ground to open beneath her.

"Tooth, it's fine, I wasn't…" Jack trailed off and furrowed his brow. His pale lips pinched together in a small frown, hiding his pearly-white teeth from view. "Is something wrong?" He had very light freckles that dusted the apples of his cheeks, Tooth noticed. So light she could barely see them.

"No…" Tooth's gaze drifted to his eyes. She remembered herself and the low drone of her wings jolted. "No! Nothing's wrong."

"Do you need a drink?"

Tooth bit back a laugh. That was the last thing she needed. Then again, a little liquid courage might have done her some good. "That won't be necessary," she said.

"Alright. What's going on, then?" The bemusement written on Jack's face had turned to concern. Tooth didn't blame him. What was _wrong_ with her?

"So, I'm not sure if you were expecting anything this year," Tooth began. "A present, I mean. I don't know if you were expecting a present. From me. I only say that because I don't want you to freak out if you hadn't thought to get me anything. It's fine! I wasn't expecting anything either."

"I wasn't expecting anything at all," said Jack as he snatched up a cookie from a passing elf. "Wait, are you saying you got me a present?"

Tooth smiled bashfully. "Kind of."

Jack's eyes widened, but then he returned it with a smile of his own. "You didn't have to do that."

"I know. But I wanted to. And really, it was no trouble."

"Yeah," said Baby Tooth at her side. "No trouble at all."

Tooth shot her a withering glare. Thankfully, Jack's Fairish was rudimentary at best. "It wasn't. Anyway." She nodded over to a group of her fairies, who had appeared inconspicuously, carrying a purple box between them. They flew forward and handed it to Tooth so she could present it to Jack. "This is for you. I hope you like it."

With a look of appreciative bewilderment, Jack accepted the gift from Tooth's outstretched hands. If he had also felt the electric jolt that sparked between them as their fingers brushed, it was seemingly forgotten when he lifted the lid of the box and held the object inside aloft by a string.

"It's a bauble," he stated, staring at the glass orb that sparkled like it was carved from pure ice. "Like a Christmas decoration? Wow, that's… thanks, Tooth, that's really nice of you. It's beautiful—"

"No, no," Tooth interrupted. "It's not just a bauble. Look closer."

Jack rose his brow at her but looked closer nonetheless. Inside the sphere of glass, the light it caught bent and shimmered until a dreamy, technicolour scene began to play out before his eyes. Jack blinked. "Hang on, this is us. You, me, North; everyone. And we're running. No; flying. This was when we helped you collect the teeth! Look at us." The bauble glowed a bright orange, then faded. "Ha! North got blown sky-high out of a chimney, were you there for that? One lit match and all my Christmases came at once. Wait. Now it's the first time you got into a snowball fight, oh, I remember this. And you had the fairies to back you up. That was totally illegal, by the way. Definitely warranted a yellow card."

Tooth laughed, biting her lip as her smile grew wider and wider.

"And that's us. On the lake."

Tooth's smile froze. She could feel a blush creeping its way back into her cheeks as their eyes met. The tips of Jack's ears had turned pink.

"They're your memories, Jack," Tooth explained. "They're not the ones contained in your baby teeth. These ones are new. I spoke to North and together we diluted the transportive magic embedded in his snow globes and fused it with the restorative magic used to conjure memories from teeth. This was what we came up with. A Chronicler. This will store your most happy memories. That way, no matter what happens, they'll never fade. You can visit them even after you've forgotten them. They'll always be with you. And in a way, so will we."

Jack's pale lips gaped open in a soft 'o' as he stared from Tooth to the miracle trinket he held on a string. "Tooth…I don't know what to say. I mean really, I…" He flung his arms around her suddenly. So suddenly that she forgot to keep herself aloft and dropped into his embrace. He hugged her all the more tightly. "Thank you, Tooth," he whispered.

Gingerly, Tooth wrapped her arms around Jack's waist, feeling beneath her fingers the pleasant chill of the ice that frosted his hoodie. When he pulled away just enough to look at her, Tooth was struck by the familiarity of the way he held her. The way he had done once before. Jack's sudden coyness told her he was reminiscing the same gilded memory.

"You're welcome, Jack," she said, and would have had no qualms over standing—yes, standing with him and her musings of what would have been, or might be, or was to come. But Jack let her go. Tooth's pulse stuttered.

"This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me," Jack said quietly. He held the glass bauble aloft, which glistened at its centre with an iridescent flash; a new memory of them in that moment.

Well, that was a good sign, was it not?

"I barely remember the last time I got given a gift." The worried knot of a few days ago reappeared in Jack's brow. "Excuse me."

Jack darted from the hall without another word. Tooth's staccato heart fell through the floor.

"No! This was supposed to make him happy, not upset him," she lamented to Baby Tooth. "Oh, Moon, what have I done?"

Hovering by her shoulder, Baby Tooth emitted a sympathetic hum. "You don't know what's going on in his head. Don't assume the worst. What you gave Jack was wonderful but would be a lot for anyone to process. Even if he needs a minute, you know he loves it. You saw him store that very moment as a memory without even thinking. You did the right thing. You gave from the heart. That's all anyone ever has to do."

"Yes. I suppose you're right."

"So, it would be nice if he hauled himself back out here and returned the favour."

"Baby Tooth! That's not the point," Tooth hissed.

Baby Tooth roller her eyes. Something told Tooth her assistant would be having words with poor Jack, at least in time for next Christmas.

Commotion across the hall startled Tooth and Baby Tooth out of their exchange. Jack had returned—and Phil had been right in his barreling path. Phil grumbled and shook his hairy fist at the cold-snap incarnate that had brushed by his nose.

"Well! Would you look at that," said Baby Tooth.

"Sorry," Jack called to Phil. He screeched to a halt before Tooth with a box of his own. "And sorry—for bolting, I mean."

Suddenly their roles seemed reversed, but Tooth was not alone in her bewilderment. Jack's dramatic re-entrance into the hall drew the rest of the party's attendees over to where she stood dumbfounded.

"Jack? Jack what is going on? Where is fire?" asked North while placating the incensed Phil.

"No fire," Jack replied. "Tooth gave me the you helped her make gift and I had something I wanted to give her in return. I just got a little excited." He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced sheepishly at his new audience. "It's been a while since I've gotten to do this."

"Wait, we're doing presents already?" Bunny rapped a foot on the ground twice and a tunnel opened up just long enough to spit out a basket full of red and green eggs accented with gold before it swallowed itself closed.

North looked at the basket and sighed, "Oy…"

Sandy too was rushing (if a little clumsily) to retrieve a gold bag from the ditzy elves that had been keeping it in their questionable care.

"So," said North to Tooth, "you begin presents before we are ready." It was a statement, not a question.

Tooth grimaced. "If it helps, it wasn't entirely intentional? I got a little ahead of myself. And Jack knows the gift wouldn't have been possible without you."

"Bah!" North let out a booming chuckle and wrapped a beefy arm round her in a hug. "All is forgiven, Toothy. Jack is happy, da?"

Jack nodded. "Absolutely."

"Then there is no reason for to be _un_-happy."

Tooth sighed in relief. "Thank you, North."

"But!" North narrowed his eyes. "If you are trying to get jump on us next year…" Tooth shrunk back. His hard expression relaxed. "It is joke. Only joke." Then, North lowered his voice and muttered loud enough that only she could hear, "I hope it he liked it. Truly."

North excused himself to retrieve his own presents intended for the Guardians and the others assembled with their gifts in hand. Jack, trying to manage his eagerness, looked about ready to leap out of his skin.

"Ok, here goes," Jack began. "Tooth, I'll be honest, I was kind of dreading tonight."

Next to her ear, Tooth heard a pint-sized "Oof."

"Being my first Christmas with actual friends instead of my own thoughts for company—"

"Crikey," Bunny muttered.

"—I should have been happy, you know? But here's the thing: the last time I gave anyone anything for Christmas was in 1711…to my little sister and my mom."

The room and all it's surrounding ambience seemed to hush. Everyone listening, even the elves, passed each other uncomfortable glances.

"Way to bring down a room, mate," Bunny said with a nudge.

Jack sighed. "Sorry. It's just…that's why I've been out of sorts for the past few days. I didn't know what to get you. Any of you. Can you blame me? You've all had centuries to practice; I thought I would fall short. But with some help from a few old friends, I think I've figured it out." Jack held out the parcel. "Merry Christmas, Tooth."

Tentatively, Tooth undid the string and stripped back the wrapping to reveal a belt tightly woven from hardy, durable fabric intertwined with vines. And attached to it was…

"My feather?"

Long and willowy, with soft barbs trailing down to a jewel-toned eye. The end of the shaft had been wrapped in a gold wire so that it could be sewn into the belt and allowed to hang gracefully. Sapphire and emerald hues flashed as the feather caught the lamplight. Tooth gazed up at Jack who was already looking intently at her, reading her reaction.

"Where did you get this?" she asked.

"I was on my way to a very reputable group of—" Jack cleared his throat, "…_seamstresses…_to fix the pocket of my hoodie after it snagged on a light post. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who needed their help. When I saw you paying them with that feather, you looked so sorry to see it go that I had to get it back. Of course, it wasn't going to be much use to you un-attached, so I had them sew it into a sword belt for your rapiers."

Tooth's mouth hung agape.

"So." Jack wrung his hands. "What do you think?"

Slowly, Tooth's lips spread into a smile, then a grin that transformed her whole face as she swept Jack into her arms and planted a kiss on his cheek. Jack's ears burned scarlet.

"It's perfect!" Tooth cried and only then did the worry completely disappear from Jack's face. Immediately, she set to work fastening the belt to her waist. As promised, there were holsters for her swords. And right where her brilliant tail feather had once cascaded from her plumage, the feather now hung from the belt, a part of her silhouette once more.

"You like it?" Jack asked earnestly.

"It's wonderful," Tooth gushed. "You're wonderful. I don't know how to thank you."

"Not too shabby for a first effort," Bunny agreed.

"I'm glad you think so," said Jack. Confidence had bloomed in his face. "'Cause there's more where that came from."

Jack spent the next ten minutes playing Santa Clause as he handed around the other gifts he had brought, all thanks to the help of the seamstress spiders: a new bed-robe for Sandy in red, trimmed with gold stars; a sack for North that was far roomier inside than it looked from the outside; and a hammock for Bunny—to help relieve the heightened stress that was likely to throw him into a conniption before next Easter. It was to encourage a mini-vacation. Or as Jack liked to call it, 'Chill Time.'

Despite her narrow-sightedness, Tooth had not forgotten the others. To Sandy, she gave the journal, as something in which to record his most vivid and inspiring dreams. To Bunny, she gave the little fern, likely to grow to mammoth proportions under his green thumb. And to North, she gave sweets—among other baked goods—all tucked away in a box decorated by her hands, the craftsmanship of which he greatly appreciated. Indeed, these gifts had been found or made with Jack in mind. However, something Baby Tooth said rang true once she gave it a little thought: it wasn't that the presents were defective, they simply weren't for the right person. In that way, Tooth's failed projects became her second biggest triumph of the night once in the hands of recipients that saw their great value.

As for her first…

— O —

Deep into the night, in the darkness before dawn, the candles burned low in their jars. North had fallen asleep in an armchair by the fire. Sandy had passed out on a cushioned window seat that overlooked the inky arctic tundra. Bunny had retired to a guest room, sensible as ever. Only two lone souls remained awake in the wee hours, sitting crosslegged on the rug of the reception hall encircled by old studded armchairs.

"That's not true," said Jack, shaking his head. "None of you could be that bad without doing it on purpose." He took a sip of the steaming mug of hot cocoa nestled in his hands.

"It is!" said Tooth. An unsettled snore from North made her pause. The logs on the fire popped and crackled. She lowered her voice, again. "Do you know how bad it was one year? Bunny said he didn't want anything but tea."

"Pfft. Sure."

"He said, '_I don't need anything but a bit of R an' R and a couple-a teas. That should do me good.'_"

Jack smirked. "That was a terrible impression."

Tooth placed her hot cocoa on the floor and folded her arms. "I'd like to see you do better."

Jack placed his mug next to hers. He leapt up onto the back of an armchair, balanced from foot to foot, and let the corner of his mouth slacken as he launched into a larrikin song and dance—if the performance that followed could be called such.

_"__Dashing through the bush_

_In a rusty Holden Ute_

_Kicking up the dust_

_Esky in the boot_

_Kelpie by my side_

_Singing Christmas songs_

_It's summer time and I am in my singlet,_

_shorts and thongs! Ay!_

_Jingle b—!"_

"Alright, alright," Tooth interrupted despite her poorly concealed laughter, 'You win."

"You sure? You said you wanted to see me try."

"Yes, I said I wanted to see you try; not have a mental breakdown. Sit." In spite of herself, Tooth had to bite down on her hand to stop herself from giggling. Once again, Jack settled crosslegged opposite her on the rug. "Should I ask who taught you that?" she queried.

"Who do you think?"

"Right…"

"Jamie. Obviously."

Tooth snorted, then continued: "As I was saying, Bunny just wanted tea. You know, the drink with the leaves and you steep it in hot water."

"I know what tea is."

"Well, North didn't. What do you think he thought of instead?"

Jack shrugged.

"Golf."

Jack's brow lifted. 'Come again?"

"He got Bunny golf _tees_ and clubs. No balls though. He thought Bunny was going to use some of his eggs for practice."

"Ohhh." Jack bit his lip, grinning painfully. "Oh no…"

"As I'm sure you can imagine, that went down a real treat."

Jack began to laugh, that silent, wheezing chuckling that became funnier the more it had to be kept quiet.

"Hey," Tooth shushed, glancing over her shoulder at the slumbering giant by the fire.

Jack could not help himself. His shoulders shook. He doubled over. Despite his restraint, he let out his amusement in one loud, "HA!" then promptly clasped his mouth shut with his hands.

North stirred. A second later he resumed snoring.

"Close call," said Jack.

Tooth sighed with a roll of her eyes. "You know what? I think we should go outside." Her gossamer wings blurred and she drifted upright. With her hand she grasped Jack's and pulled him to his feet. They lingered together a moment. Enough for Tooth to feel her cheeks flush for the umpteenth time that night. Gently, she lead him to the balcony. Together, they opened the doors to a sharp wind.

"Oh, my goodness!" Tooth exclaimed. The wind pitched a sharp whistle that snatched her breath away. Under the sleepy, warm spell of yule fire and chocolate, she had somewhat forgotten the weather was more temperate in her tropical home than _in the Arctic Circle_.

"On second thought…" she said, about to close the doors again.

"Wait," said Jack. He raced over to the balustrade at the edge of the balcony. "Hey, Wind? Take it down a few notches. Can't you see the lady's about to freeze?"

Tooth looked around with her arms wrapped around herself, shivering. She gave a compliant shrug, a slight grimace, and a little nod. As if in reply, the gale died to a whisper, the sudden silence its own kind of deafening. The wind then faded on a whirlwind of snowflakes that drifted towards the moon.

"Lady, hm?" Tooth smirked as Jack returned.

"Indeed," he replied in equal jest.

"Well, thank you, kind sir."

The cold was bearable but it was still too much for Tooth's wings to function properly, no matter how hard she beat them. She sank to the ground.

"I've got one more idea," said Jack, seeing the ice and snow was nothing short of seeping into her skin. He frowned ever so slightly and flourished his hands in a wide arc around himself. The storm froze. In a white flash, snowflakes rushed to the perimeter of an invisible dome where they stayed, in suspended animation, surrounding the balcony. Surrounding them both. Warmth—or perhaps, the absence of cold—seeped into the bubble in a way that could never have been possible. Not without Jack.

Tooth reached out to touch the stagnant snowflakes. They danced drowsily around her fingertips before floating back into place. "How did you you do that?" she asked, her shivers gone.

"Wind owes me a favour," Jack said with a wink. "In all honesty, I didn't do much. I just…redirected the cold—seeing as it bothers you so much." He gave her a nudge.

"We don't all have the luxury of ice running through our veins," said Tooth with a small smile. "That is better, thank you."

They settled side by side in comfortable silence, watching the moonlight glint on the snowcaps that peaked in a distant choppy sea of mountains. The snowflakes surrounding them absorbed all ambient sound. If Tooth closed her eyes, she could imagine standing in the middle of a freshly powdered forest.

"For a long time, I was never really sure if I would get another Christmas like the ones I had before I was changed," said Jack.

"I'm sure it wasn't easy," Tooth murmured. The back of her hand brushed against his. Neither of them pulled away. "You haven't spent a Christmas with anyone since? Anyone at all?"

Jack tilted his head in consideration. "There was one year I hung out with a leprechaun and a siren."

"Oh?"

"They could drink Sandy under the table."

"Oh dear."

"Plus it weirdly felt like I was third wheeling the whole time." Jack smiled. "I decided I was better off wandering. Most years I followed North, put a bit of fresh powder down in the places where it made sense. And sometimes where it didn't."

Tooth's heart swelled. She beamed. Of course Jack had always been destined to be a Guardian. Gingerly she laced her fingers in his. Jack grasped her hand in reply.

"I'm sure the children loved that," she said.

"I like to think so."

Hand in hand, Tooth felt that familiar electricity tingle and hum through her nerves. Cooling, calming. Quietly thrilling. Her gaze found Jack's. She turned to him.

"I have had one more idea," said Tooth.

"What's that?" asked Jack.

"Next year, we open the doors to everyone. No one gets left out. Not you. Not your drinking buddies."

Jack laughed.

"No one gets to be alone on Christmas ever again."

Jack smiled, took a deep breath, and looked up at the stars. "I like that."

In the ethereal light of the moon, Tooth might have sworn she saw tears brimming his eyes. She realised she was wrong when he brought his gaze back down and locked eyes with her.

"I have one more idea, too," said Jack.

"What's that?" asked Tooth.

Jack didn't answer. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her.

Nestled in its box, the Chronicler flashed blue and green.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Fun fact 1: This was supposed to be a gift for someone last Christmas in a Secret Santa. Due to my own personal difficulties, I had to withdraw. I spent the rest of this year working on this short so that I might release it in time for the festive season this year. Mission accomplished.

Fun fact 2: My brilliant friend over on Deviant Art composed the art that you see here. **Taylor Denna** is a legend and I adore her work. Consider her next time you need a commission!

Fun fact 3: North's gifting mishap was based on a true story, in which my father asked for golf tees for K.K. and was given loose leaf tea by my aunt instead. It was a joke, but not a kind one. It was also the final straw that canceled our family K.K. for good and the reason why we can't have nice things. Cheers Suzane.

Fun Fact 4: Usually I get my work beta read by **Sumi Sprite. **Because of how close to the wire I am in finishing up this final draft, I thought it would be unfair to ask Sumi to churn out a review two days before christmas (for me, anyway). So here you are, proof read to the best of my ability and time. Forgive me any errors! Sumi, you're still my number one.

_Happy holidays, whatever you're celebrating!_

Papers


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